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@officialsolely

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Philosophy for the mind and soul
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Thought-Forms (1901), by Annie Besant and C. W. Leadbeater.

explores the Theosophical belief that thoughts and emotions manifest as distinct forms, colours and patterns in subtle matter, illustrated through a series of intricate visual interpretations. by @officialsolely

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3 days ago

God complex with no god inside of you.

i wonder if the mirror gets tired.

not of looking at you. of being asked to prove you exist.

because what a strange arrangement we’ve made with reality. i look at you, you look at me, and somewhere between the two of us a person appears. apparently. remove the witnesses and what happens to the crime?

no wait.

what happens to the person?

somewhere, somebody is remembering a conversation that the other person has completely forgotten. not the important part. the stupid bit at the end. the way they said goodbye. and they’re both alive, which makes it difficult to explain why one of them is grieving.

a man could spend forty years misunderstanding a woman who died believing he understood her perfectly. neither of them will ever find out. the misunderstanding has outlived the people it belonged to. it just sits there now, with nowhere to go.

and how much of what we call the past is just this? two people leaving the same room with entirely different memories of what happened inside it.

Anyway, that’s the entire problem, isn’t it…… we keep trying to smuggle consciousness into things that have never asked for it. we give the universe a face because a face can be questioned. we give death a personality because an ending without an author is apparently too obscene to look at directly.

and then we call ourselves intelligent…..

i think about it all the time. the sheer, humiliating accident of being awake. how you can be sitting perfectly still and suddenly remember that your hands are attached to you. that there is a you. that there has always been a you, apparently, although you cannot remember the beginning.

and somewhere in that room, something invented a god complex. but there was no god.

just the room.

just the walls.

Just a consciousness trying to look at itself without becoming the thing it was looking at.

and a mirror.

always a mirror.

which is strange, because mirrors don’t actually show you what you look like.

they show you what you look like looking. by @officialsolely

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4 days ago

1-3 : The Ache

I’ve always found it strange how quickly people call rebellion destructive. Sometimes rebellion is the first honest thing a person does. Sometimes you have to ruin the version of your life that was making you miserable before you can find out whether there was anything underneath it worth saving.

But then what do you do when the truth is ugly too… You fight it, obviously. You argue with yourself like there are two people living in the same room, both convinced they’re the one being reasonable. And maybe neither of them is.

The harsh truth doesn’t set you free. Maybe it just takes away the last lie that was keeping you functional.

4-6: The Turning

There’s a point where you stop recognising what you’re carrying.

You just wake up one day and realise you’ve been carrying a version of yourself around like a dead man in a suitcase, pretending he still has somewhere to go.

So you put him down.

And suddenly everything feels wrong because everything is yours now. No instructions. No one to blame. Just this enormous empty space where the old life used to tell you what to be. And you start tearing things apart because if you’re going to destroy something, you might as well be honest about it.

7-8: The Quiet

I think freedom is a strange word. People make it sound like you’re supposed to feel lighter, but what if you just feel exposed? Like someone took the walls away and forgot to put anything behind them.

peace is just what happens when there’s nothing left to destroy. You sit there looking at the mess, almost offended by how ordinary it looks. All that noise, all those nights, all that fucking thinking, and in the end it’s just a room.

And you’re still in it. I think that’s the part nobody tells you. The room stays quiet. And eventually you realise you were never looking for an answer. You were just looking for something to blame.

It’s time to move, isn’t it. by @officialsolely

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12 days ago

I don’t know what that means anymore.

I don’t even know if anymore is the right word. Time has started feeling like something someone invented because they got bored of explaining why everything keeps disappearing.

I keep finding pieces of myself in places I don’t remember leaving them. Today I found one sitting in the corner eating my furniture. It stared at me for a while, then went back to eating the chair. I didn’t blame it. Honestly, I was mostly concerned about the chair.

Which is funny, really.

Because I spent so much time trying to understand myself, only to realise I might just be several different people taking turns driving the same body, and none of them have a fucking licence.

Sometimes I feel like I’m remembering a life that belongs to someone else. Sometimes I feel like someone else is remembering mine.

And sometimes I stand in my room at four in the morning wondering why the ceiling has been looking at me like that for the past twenty minutes.

Maybe the things I keep trying to explain are only strange because I keep insisting they should make sense.

I’m beginning to think not knowing is probably the closest thing to knowing anything.

Anyway. I think I’m getting better.

Which is suspicious.

But I’ll take it. by @officialsolely

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19 days ago

How do you become yourself when you’ve been watching yourself become someone your whole life? by @officialsolely

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a month ago

Sols,

I hope this page becomes somewhere you return to.

Not because you have to.

Because it feels like home. by @officialsolely

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3 months ago

The desire to change

I keep thinking change will arrive like weather. Something I wake up inside of. Something that happens to me while I’m asleep, quietly rearranging the furniture of my mind so I don’t have to drag it room by room with bleeding hands.

Instead it arrives as the same face in a different mirror….

I don’t think people talk enough about how humiliating it is to know exactly what is hurting you and still return to it with the devotion of a pilgrim. As if pain is a hometown. As if familiarity deserves forgiveness. As if I could carve a better future using the same knife that built all these scars.

And then…. every morning is offensively ordinary. The kettle boils. The birds keep singing like nothing inside me has collapsed.

Maybe that’s the joke…

I don’t know if healing is supposed to feel this much like disappearing. How do you thank someone for protecting you while admitting they’ve become the thing you’re trying to escape?

I don’t think I want to be fixed anymore.

I think I just want to become unrecognizable to the version of me that mistakes suffering for personality. by @officialsolely

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3 months ago

nothing really changes, but you feel a bit lighter anyway, like your thoughts aren’t arguing with everything as much. you don’t really know why, but you’re not questioning it either, you’re just letting it be, and it feels kinda okay in a quiet way, like nothing fixed, just less heavy for no reason. by @officialsolely

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4 months ago

The greatest gift we’ve been given is not talent, luck, or circumstance. It is free will. The ability to choose who we become despite what has happened to us. To think a different thought. To take a different action. To walk away from what no longer serves us and move toward what does.

Every day presents a decision. Remain the same, or become something more. Your future is not written by your past. It is written by the choices you make when no one is watching.

You may not control every event that enters your life, but you control the meaning you assign to it, the response you give it, and the person you decide to be because of it. Within that freedom lies your power. And within that power lies the ability to create an entirely different life. by @officialsolely

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4 months ago

You spend so long preparing for a battle that one day you realise there was never anyone standing opposite you.

The fight is over.

Or maybe it never began.

Maybe all that noise, all that resistance, all those imaginary conversations… they were just different versions of you pulling in opposite directions.

One trying to stay.

One trying to leave.

One refusing to forgive.

One begging to move on.

You call it overthinking, but maybe it’s just a civil war between memories.

And then, one quiet day, it stops.

Not because you won.

Because there’s nobody left to fight.

Only you.

The same person you were running from, waiting patiently for you to turn around. by @officialsolely

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3 months ago

What didn’t make sense didn’t matter, what I had control over meant the least to me. It was the things I couldn’t control that conquered my soul, the things I was chaotic about. I always felt an unleashing jealousy to those who lived in normality…. so vibrant so delicate like it’s at the edge of my silhouette. A contradiction that spread from the outside in. How cruel, how tempting. by @officialsolely

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5 months ago

AA Magazine - Vol. 1, Issue 3: Human Experience.

@aspiring.ang3l x @officialsolely by @officialsolely

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2 months ago